


Walk Like a Boss

by KrazyKeke



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Humor, Black Character(s), Black Family, Black!Reader - Freeform, F/M, I'm not for sure what universe this exists in, Reader-Insert, if it's canon at all, this could just be for fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 18:19:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14676726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrazyKeke/pseuds/KrazyKeke
Summary: Real men make your panties wet, not your eyes.





	1. Chapter 1

## I WISH I COULD BELIEVE YOU, THEN I’LL BE ALL RIGHT  
BUT NOW EVERYTHING YOU TOLD ME REALLY DON’T APPLY  
TO THE WAY I FEEL INSIDE

“–By. Baby, did you hear me!?” 

The sound of an annoyed male voice jolted you out of the trance you’d fallen into. “What?” Glancing to the left, you smile halfheartedly up at your boyfriend. “Hey, baby.” You belatedly took note of his attire. “Going out?”

He muttered something indistinct underneath his breath that vaguely sounded like, ‘that’s what I just said, damn, pay attention,’ and more unflattering things that you chose to be deaf to. “It’s just my usual five mile run. I’ve got my iPod with me, so I probably won’t be checking my messages.”

“Are you  _really_ just going for a run, Andrew?” Although you’d warned yourself over and over to keep the accusing tone out of your voice, it still snuck in there without permission. 

He pointed a finger in your face. “Don’t start. Remember what the therapist said.” Andrew felt the need to point out. “Stop looking for reasons to be suspicious.”

## LOVING YOU WAS EASY ONCE UPON A TIME  
BUT NOW MY SUSPICIONS OF YOU HAVE MULTIPLIED  
AND IT’S ALL BECAUSE YOU LIED

“Maybe if you’d have kept your dick in your pants, I wouldn’t  _ **NEED**_ to be suspicious.” You muttered. 

He had heard you but pretended like he didn’t. 

“What was that?” Andrew raised an eyebrow. 

“I said if you goin’ out, I’m leaving too.” You state in a normal tone of voice. “Can you take Buddy?”

“Nah, that dog too hyperactive and he don’t like me.” 

## I ONLY GIVE YOU A HARD TIME  
‘CAUSE I CAN’T GO ON AND PRETEND LIKE  
I HAVEN’T TRIED TO FORGET THIS  
BUT I’M MUCH TOO FULL OF RESENTMENT

“Remember what the therapist said?” You couldn’t resist throwing his words back at him. “Compromise with your partner. Tailor your needs and wants to suit their schedule sometimes too. So take the damn dog! I need, want, and deserve, some quality time by my damn self!!” 

“Alright!” He shouted. “…Alright, I’ll take the dog.” Andrew raised his hands near his head, not touching the sides of his face. Then he lowered them, reaching out to take your hands. You let him, grip limp in his. “We gon get through this, baby. It’s just a rough patch.”

## JUST CAN’T SEEM TO GET OVER THE WAY YOU HURT ME  
DON’T KNOW HOW YOU GAVE ANOTHER WHO DIDN’T MEAN A THING, NO  
THE VERY THING YOU GAVE TO ME  
I THOUGHT I COULD FORGIVE YOU, AND I KNOW YOU’VE CHANGED  
AS MUCH AS I WANNA TRUST YOU, I KNOW IT AIN’T THE SAME

Lips pursing, slipping into a frown, “Just go.” You request.

“Baby…”

Irritation flooded your body before exploding outward. “I didn’t stutter!  _Leave me the fuck alone_ , muthafucka!”

Andrew dropped your hand and backed away, eyeing you warily. Walking backwards, he didn’t take his eyes off of you until he bumped into the bedroom door, feeling around for the handle, and then twisted it, slipping out the cracked opening. 

Feeling tears stinging at the back of your eyes, wanting to be shed, you blink rapidly. Refusing to cry today. You’d cried enough tears to fill a river, lake, and ocean after discovering that your potential husband to be, your high school sweetheart and lover for just under half a decade had been actively cheating on you. With his secretary. 

It was such a cliche. 

You hadn’t wanted to believe it when you found out four months ago. Or actually, you’d been told, by the homewrecker herself. Claiming Andrew was the father of her unborn child. Of course, you wanted proof, needed it, because so much time and energy had been put into the relationship, you weren’t just letting some random thirsty ho ruin it. And she had proof: text messages, receipts for the gifts he’d bought, pictures, the whole nine yards. 

When you’d confronted Andrew, he denied at first. He kept denying it for a solid hour. Then he guiltily admitted the truth, fake crying and trying to play the victim. Flip it on you, saying that you were cold and inattentive. 

You didn’t love or fuck him enough. 

For that reason alone, you popped his ass in the face. The neighbors called the police. Ms. Wayne likely thought you were about to kill his bitch ass self in this house. And with how livid you were, it could have happened. 

Truthfully, you were done with him when you found out a whole four months ago, but your mom talked you into couple’s counselling (she always favored him more, you knew it in your heart) and against your better judgement, you’d went. Listened to this Zen bullshit, control your temper, ease up, don’t give up. 

Blah blah blah.  

That shit was for the birds! 

Once a cheater, always a cheater. You was only waiting for the minute you caught him slipping, then you would be gone without a second thought. 

Hell, maybe before that.

‘Lord, bless me with a wholesome, genuine man. With his own car, his own job and about his business. I don’t care how he look, Lord, just send him my way.’ Prayer is not for silly reasons like this, your mother would scold you, but in your eyes, this is an emergency. 

**CRYSTAL COVE GARDENS  
10:28 AM**

Dressed in a cute but simple [outfit](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2F236x%2F9e%2Fce%2F2c%2F9ece2c02bab32bd2ffe4843d3c0f0e4a.jpg&t=OTlhZTc1YjkzY2FhZTExMzhlYmE0YzIyMjkxZDI0NmVmZWQ0ZGU0MSxuMVRVMGs1Rw%3D%3D&b=t%3AXMk1TwzrxXLoAD7rDaBoCw&p=http%3A%2F%2Fthekrazykeke.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172746109462%2Fblack-women-deserve-better-just-keeping-it-100&m=1), you watched the families enjoy the warm weather. How the dogs chased after thrown sticks or toys, and regretted not bringing Buddy out here. He’d been such a good doggy in the past few months, growling at Andrew’s trifling ass, cheering you up with his antics, and letting you run your fingers through his fur while struggling with the on and off bouts of tears and fury. 

‘I hope he bites him on the butt. He would deserve it.’ 

There were gasps and you looked for the source of distress. Only to feel something wet plop against your forehead. 

‘Oh, no.’

More raindrops fell from the sky. The sunny expanse becoming gray quickly and the light rain changed to a downpour. Everybody started running for cover, you did too, futilely trying to shield your hair but gave up on that five minutes in. Slipping and sliding on the cobblestone while running for your car, you fell a few feet away from the place you’d parked. 

“Oww! Shit…” Embarrassment filled your body, though no one was around to see you take that L. Sitting up, you pressed your fingers to the back of your head, pulling them away and grateful not to see blood. 

‘That’s karma for you.’

Knees stinging, back aching, you tried to get up again. This time you managed to raise up onto your knees. Only to startle when you didn’t feel your brown skin being pelted with rain anymore. Glancing up, you saw an umbrella overhead, shielding you.

“Are you alright, miss?” An accented male voice met your ears. The owner of that voice reached an umber skinned hand down and you took it. He helped you to your feet easily, no complaints forthcoming or irritated huffs, but that little action caused your heart to skip a beat. 

“I’m good. Thank you.” You didn’t want to be rude but you were embarrassed as all hell. Someone had witnessed you make a fool of yourself, shit. ‘And he’s handsome! Lord, thank you, but why you have to send him right now?!’ 

“Really, thank…” You take a step back and he lets you go. 

Only you nearly bit it.  
Again.

And this time, he shifted his umbrella to his left hand, reaching out with his free hand. Catching you around the waist and bringing you close. You were left blinking up at him like an idiot and the faint thought of ‘so this is how those white girls in Harlequin novels get caught up.’ 

“May I escort you the rest of the way to your vehicle? This is twice you’ve nearly seriously hurt yourself in my presence and I am worried.” Faint amusement coats his tone but you’re not offended, somehow realizing that he’s not making fun of you like anyone else would in this predicament.

‘He has kind eyes…’ Wordless, you nodded. 

Smoothly, he offered an arm in your direction after you straightened up (again) and this time, you take it. Trying not to inhale too deeply even though he smelled good. Trying not to grope him even though you could feel how muscled he is through his shirt. You try to listen to the angel on your shoulder as he raised the umbrella overhead, offering protection for you and himself as he carefully walked with you towards your car. 

Two wrongs don’t make it right, a voice at the back of your head that sounded distantly like your disapproving mother, as you opened the car door and got inside. 

“Drive safely.” 

Aww, how sweet! “I will.” You promise. “Thank you again, stranger.” After the words left your mouth, you could have smacked yourself. It wasn’t a smooth delivery at all, more awkward and fumbling. Such a dumbass, you’re such a dumbass. 

His lips twitched into a faint smile, unfazed by the bumbling delivery. “My name is T’Challa. Not ‘stranger’.”

“Y/N.” Habit has you offering your hand for a shake, but he lifted the back of your hand to his mouth, kissing the knuckles. Sending your heart into overdrive and as his dark eyes flicked to yours for a brief, heated moment, there’s no way he missed that. 

“Drive safely, Y/N.”

The way that he caressed the syllables of your name has you thinking about climbing out of this car and doing something very very crazy. You entertain the notion for approximately ten seconds, but T’Challa maybe senses the turmoil occurring in your heart and head, because he makes the choice for the both of you. Gently closing the car door, then waved and walked in the opposite direction.

You sit in that car for close to half an hour before driving home. 

Home to a man you don’t love nor want. Home to a man who doesn’t love or even like, let alone respect you. Regret coats the back of your throat as Andrew kisses your cheek, asking if you wanted to eat some leftover pizza and watch movies.


	2. Chapter 2

“I told yo ass…I told you. No contact, whatsoever. None. Nada!” Slamming the fridge door shut, you waved your index finger inches from under Andrew’s nose. “You talmbout ‘bae, I wanna work this out,’ ‘bae, i really love you’, but you still goin’ around and doing shady shit.” Slamming the bottle of water onto the counter, you aggressively twisted the cap off and flicked it into the waste basket. 

“You really testing my nerves, Andrew.” 

Andrew threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “The fuck you mad at me for? I ain’t text that girl, she texted me!”

“You wasn’t supposed to text back, stupid!” Hand on your hip, you look him up and then down, “Let me see your phone.” 

“ _Tuh_!” He shook his head, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “Ay, you trippin’.” 

“Why you won’t let me see the phone, got somethin’ to hide?” Making a move to reach in his pocket, he shuffles away. “Let me see the phone!”

“You actin’ crazy,  **STOP**!”

Against your better judgement, you make it work with your man, Andrew. For a few weeks, things had been going pretty well, the two of you communicated more and you didn’t freak out when he chose to hang out with other people besides yourself, he even checked in periodically, like at the beginning of your relationship. Things, however, still were not perfect and honky-dory. Andrew still flaked on you sometimes to work overtime (and you had a mini heart attack wondering if he’s cheating again), the intimacy felt forced and the sex? 

Well, let’s not get into the detail of how terrible that was.

He didn’t know that you’d run into T’Challa while at the park nor that y’all met up again, a few times with Buddy and Buddy actually  _liked_ T’Challa, which is surprising because your doggy occasionally growled at even your mother.

Maybe you didn’t say anything because at the back of your mind, you knew that this relationship was a sinking boat? That Andrew was a roguish ass muthafucka and constantly scheming?

Looking into the face of the man you once thought you’d spend a lifetime with, you felt nothing. “What are we doin’?”

“I’m tryna get you to stop for one!”

“No, not that. With us, stupid,  _with us_. What are we doin’?” You reiterate.

“Whatchu mean?”

You blink back the sudden onslaught of tears. “This isn’t going to work.” You say hoarsely. Andrew makes to take a step in your direction and you held up a hand. “Don’t.”

“…I’ll pack an overnight bag, stay with my brother. We can talk about this in the morning.” You said nothing and he became frustrated, “Okay?!”

“You better not show your ass back here tomorrow. As of today, you’re evicted.” In your mind, there’s nothing to talk about. And with how he tried to get up out here with the quickness, no doubt he’d be either up in another ho’s guts or talking shit about you to his family, like you gave a fuck. 

None of them wanted to catch these hands. 

“What? You can’t do that! I pay rent here!”

“Rent, yup, you supposed to. But you three months behind, and this  _my_ house, in  _my name_. Nowhere are you on the lease. So like I said, boy,  **E V I C T E D**.” Waving him off, you crossed your arms in front of yourself, watching as he huffed and dragged his feet, getting what he needed and lowkey hoping you’d feel sorry for him. 

And you’re not. 

For the first time in forever, you feel great. Liberated.

Throughout the week, you ignore the phone calls and voicemails from your mother. From Andrew. Get lunch with your father for the first time in—-too long, and the two of y’all have a blast making fun of what a joke Andrew was and still is. 

“Oh, would you look at that.” Dad tutted. “It just turned from bright and cheery and dismal that fast.” It was indeed raining out there, heavy. “Do you have an umbrella, honey? Because I can give you mine.”

“Daddy, no. It’s cool. I’m good. I’m gon’ stay inside, wait it out.” He still looked hesitant so you smiled. “Really, I will be  _fine_.”

“Okay, pumpkin.” Kissing the side of your forehead, he then patted your cheek. “I love you. Call me when you get in?”

“Love you too. And I will.” You promise. 

Stirring the straw in the cafe’s signature [Green Tea Berry Delight](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fimages.media-allrecipes.com%2Fuserphotos%2F250x250%2F129091.jpg&t=NjhiNDNmYTQwZDY4ZjA4NjllN2E0NTNmYzQyZmM0ZWY0OTg4YjllNSxiYXhWS3h3VA%3D%3D&b=t%3AXMk1TwzrxXLoAD7rDaBoCw&p=http%3A%2F%2Fthekrazykeke.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172834282352%2Fim-pretty-sure-we-all-knew-what-was-coming-the&m=1), sipping at the beverage occasionally, you stare at passerby running for shelter. A crack of lightning streaks across the sky and you absently are grateful you didn’t try and make a break for it like before. You’d be soaked in seconds. 

A hand taps the back of your chair and you blink, looking up. “Long time no see. Hello, stranger.” It’s T’Challa. “May I sit?” 

You gesture for him to go ahead and sit. He flags down the waiter, getting him to remove the leftovers. “We just saw each other Saturday. That’s a whole two days ago.” 

“Two days that were too long.” T’Challa stated, smooth. 

Unable to come up with a witty comeback and feeling flustered, you sip at your drink. He laughed softly.

“I am sorry. Too honest?” 

“No, no! On the contrary, it’s rare to, um, find a man so forthcoming about his feelings.” You clear your throat, your eyes dart around before meeting his again, “It’s refreshing. I like it.” 

T’Challa slowly smiled, the action lighting up his dark eyes. 

For more than half an hour, the two of you sat in the cafe. Talking, laughing. Flirting. 

Oh, the flirting. 

T’Challa gave out more compliments to you than Andrew had in…ever! But enough of that insignificant piece of trash. While most black men would only say nice things to try and get in between your legs, not so with T’Challa, he was sincere. Everything he said well thought out and meaningful. 

And when you spoke, he listened, really listened to you. 

Such an attitude you could easily get addicted to. 

 _Tap_! 

You blinked when he lightly tapped your nose, jarring you back to the present. T’Challa stared at you with amusement. “I lost your interest. I am sorry, we can switch the subject.” 

“No, you didn’t. I was just thinking that I didn’t want to end this, uh…” You wave your hand around, frantically searching your brain for a neutral term instead of–

“I want this to have been a date. Partly because I am hoping this time you will let me kiss you.” You could only stare at him, stuck on stupid, speechless. “Can I kiss you, hmm?” The words caressed your ear, even as you drifted even closer into his embrace, he was so warm compared to the chill from the rain. “Tell me. Tell me I c–”

Unable to really help yourself anymore, your hands cup his cheeks and you lean up for a kiss. His left hand braces against the dip of your back, a solid warmth, even as y’all shared a kiss in the rain like a white couple in a Harlequin novel. Who cares that it was cliche? This man is one of a kind and you weren’t stupid enough to keep ignoring the signs that he could be… might be… 

~~The One?~~


	3. Chapter 3

You woke up with a  _smile_. Something that hadn’t occurred for months. Refreshed and rejuvenated. Still smiling faintly, you sat up in bed, the sheets falling off of your shoulders to pool around your waist. 

“It’s gon be a good day today.”

Getting out of bed, throwing the covers off of your body, you pad over the plush carpet to the right. Twisting the doorknob, you bite back a shiver as the gust of cold air from the bathroom hit you in the face. Proceeding inside, you close the door and shed your night clothes, walking to the shower. Taking your time going through your daily morning routine, once that’s finished, you get dressed in lounge wear, but even that’s cute. 

And why are you feeling this great? Well, why the fuck not, bih! The sun is shining and you’re alive. That’s enough reason to celebrate in and of itself. 

“Hey Buddy!” Greeting your canine companion cheerfully, you scratched behind his ears, smiling as his tongue lolled out and he tilted his chin up. “That’s a good dog. That’s a good dog, yes, you are. Yes, you are, baby.” Standing up again, you walked to where you kept the dog food stored and filled Buddy’s food and water bowls up. “Mommy loves you, you’re such a good boy.” You continue to coo for a few minutes, brushing a hand over his fur again as the dog ate, unable to really help it.

There was a ding! and you leave Buddy to his own devices. Grabbing a pair of oven mitts, you pull open the door to the oven and slide out a tray of cinnamon sticky buns. Placing the tray onto the dining room table, you take off the mitts and decide to wait until the treats cooled down a bit before eating any. Doing an impromptu little dance over to the front door, you unlatch the locks and twist the knob. Walking forward, you retrieve the newspaper, and mail, but when you look up, you see Andrew loitering on your lawn, asleep. 

Eyebrows raising, a wicked idea enters your brain. 

Retreating inside, you close and lock the front door again. Next to the security system attached to the wall on the far left is a keypad that had both manual and automatic settings to set off the sprinklers for the lawn to be watered. Bypassing the keypad, you walk over to the kitchen island, picking up your cellphone which vibrated several times, indicating a text message.

Heart turning over in your chest, your hand drifts to your mouth, as if to stifle the instinctive ‘Aww!’ that wanted to escape. T’Challa really is the embodiment of the perfect man. Sweet beyond comprehension, gentle, gentlemanly. 

It made you curious about what he’d look like or the sounds he’d make when he was turned on.

…You was such a ho.

Biting the inside of your cheek, struggling with the idea that had literally just exploded in your brain and had the potential to backfire, you internally decided to give it a whirl. Rising up from your seat, you bound up the stairs back to your bedroom. Opening the curtains to let in some natural lighting, you flit through several poses before deciding on something a little less complicated and risque.

What if he got the message in public?

The devil really had a hold of your spirit tonight because you took the picture while standing in front of the full length mirror, adding a cute little caption to be cheeky.

That bit of mischief complete, you walk back down the stairs to the kitchen. Placing the cellphone back in it’s original position on the island counter, you snag a cinnamon sticky bun, lifting it to your mouth and taking a bite. 

Less than two minutes pass, and then your cellphone ringtone’s going off, signalling an incoming call. Licking the sticky sugar off your fingers, you snag a napkin and clean off the rest, using your free hand to swipe right and the call is answered, you put it on speaker. 

“Hello?”

There’s silence for a second and you wonder if the call is dropped. “That is not nice, Y/N, not nice at all.”

‘Oh, God. He didn’t like the pic at all. Maybe I should have worn make up?’ You certainly weren’t a flattering image without at least a little lipstick and eye shadow. 

Before your thoughts could get away from you, T’Challa continues on to say, “You only proved my point about being lovely in the mornings.” Your heart started to beat normally again. “It really is not fair for you to do this to me though, especially because I am not there to kiss you…” He was such a sweetie! “And put my mouth in other places.” 

Eyes widening, you stare at the phone dumbly. T’Challa’s tone hadn’t changed at all, he still sounded calm and unruffled, friendly, even. So maybe you just misheard? “Um…”

“Yes, this picture is really very cute. I like the angle. If I were there, I would peel those leggings off of you. Are you wearing panties? I would hope not. That would hinder me from getting my first taste of you.” He laughed softly. “Then again, it could be fun to take your panties off with my teeth.” The visual causes you to accidentally let out a moan and quickly slap a hand over your mouth. 

Again there’s a moment of silence, then the sound of him moving to a different area. 

“T’Challa?” 

“I’m here.” His voice, while still warm, is a bit rough now. “The sound of you, Y/N…” You can’t understand what language he’s speaking but that’s irrelevant. You feel a bit warm at the thought that you can get to him like this over an innocent picture. “I have a meeting to attend soon, otherwise I would be there in twenty, maybe thirty, minutes? So, we have to do it like this. You are going to touch yourself.” 

“What?” You yelp, picking the phone up and taking it off speaker, your feet take you to the direction of the living room, part of you had already recognized the direction this would be going. 

Sprawling out on the sofa, you get comfortable.

“Touch yourself.” His voice is hypnotic. Smooth as silk, but decadent as chocolate, you could listen to him speak all day. “I want – I  _need_ – to hear you. Can you do that for me, lovely girl?  **TOUCH YOURSELF**.”

Eyelids closing of their own volition, your hands made their way down your side, stopping just below the fabric of your leggings and the waistband of your panties. Pausing only for a second, wavering on whether you should do this, after a breath, you continue on, and trace slow, wet circles around your flesh. Opening your legs a little wider with a pleased sigh, adjusting the cellphone so that you can hold it with your shoulder and cheek. 

The sound of a zipper being undone is loud in your ear, and you can visualize him taking his cock in hand, fisting himself. “Don’t stop. Keep going.”

His words are the only encouragement that you need. 

There’s a growing wet spot in the crotch of your panties as your arousal had literally soaked through the fabric. Moaning unintelligibly, a bit past caring about propriety and how silly you would look…, instead, your hands are in between your spread legs and working furiously, slipping through your plump, soaking folds to return to your clit. You shoved two fingers inside, only half listening to T’Challa’s curses and praises both. Your brown skin is literally glistening with arousal and you speed up the pace, heart rate and breathing becoming heavier. Stroking your clit again with a feather light touch, basically teasing, you edged yourself closer and closer to orgasm. Pumping your fingers in and out, in and out, imagining that T’Challa was here with you, squeezing your eyes shut, you added your thumb, caressing your clit with each stroke of your fingers. 

‘I’m so close, so close.’ 

“Cum for me, Y/N.”

Almost as if you’d been waiting for permission, your body clamped down around your fingers and your back arched as you came. Loose and languid, your breathing is loud in the room but you can’t even bring yourself to care. Gently pulling your fingers free of your pussy, you swallow and try to get a handle on yourself. Belatedly remembering that T’Challa had been on the line, you scramble for your phone, asking if he’s still there. 

“Two hours.” His voice is husky. Almost a purr. “I’ll be there in two hours, Y/N. I need to see you cum in person, not over the phone, though that was beautiful, and sexy, too. I want your full attention then. Clear out anything you have to do today.”

Smiling goofily, you’re grateful he can’t see you. “Yes, sir.”

With that, the two of you hang up after saying goodbye. 

What a crazy morning.


	4. Chapter 4

Two hours is plenty of time. 

“Get cho ass off my lawn, stupid!” Having decided that the house needed a little air, you cracked open some windows and after pulling up the blinds for the kitchen window, you catch sight of Andrew’s bummy ass, still loitering around the house. 

“You can’t do this, Y/N! I already talked to my lawyer. I need a thirty day notice before an eviction. So lemme inside!”

Letting out an evil chuckle, “Thirty day notice? Thirty day, boy, you shoulda thought about that when you was cheating and creeping. Go to ya baby mama house, beg her for scraps!”

“This is what this really about, ain’t it? Y/N, baby, listen…”

Just as he was about to come up with some whack ass apology and make a half assed effort to be seductive and manipulate you, casual as can be, you walked over to the wall where the keypad is, pressing a few buttons to make the sprinklers go off. Smiling a bit vindictively, you relished his startled yelp and cries to stop, stop, stop, but you ignored this. Whistling, you called Buddy to you, scritching behind his ear and letting him brush his cold, wet nose against your cheek, then after a bit of playing, you let him outside, there’s plenty of open space and toys out there in the backyard. 

Once that’s all done, you put up the cinnamon rolls, clean up the dishes and around the house before retreating upstairs. Feeling grimy, you treat yourself to a bath, soaking in the tub as you listened to music that’s soothing to the ear and mellow. Then once the bath is completed, you take your time moisturizing your skin, doing up your hair in a simple but pretty updo  ~~(if all went well, it’d be getting messed up anyway)~~  and answering T’Challa’s text, confirming the address of your residence. 

When you’ve finished re-dressing in comfortable and cute clothes, you return downstairs just in time as the doorbell rang. Nerves suddenly shot through your stomach, prickles of doubt traveling up your spine, a tiny voice at the back of your brain asking if you were really going through with this. Swallowing back the anxiety, you decide that yes, yes, you are. Unlatching the locks and unbolting the door, you twist the knob and the door swings open to reveal T’Challa, holding a bottle of wine, likely expensive, though you don’t recognize the brand.

“Hi!” You smiled warmly, the action natural and you reach out to retrieve the gift. “Ooh, you didn’t have to bring anything.”

T’Challa smiled as well, the action crinkling his eyes at the corners, letting you take the wine. “I thought we could share a glass or two, if that is okay…?”

“Yes, absolutely. And, and I’m being rude,” Lightly you slapped your forehead, moving to the side, “Please, come in.” 

“Thank you.” Maybe it’s your imagination that his fingers trail down your shoulder. Closing the door, you lock up again and turn to see that he’s glancing around with mild curiosity, then when he catches you looking, T’Challa smiles again, this time more sheepishly, “You have a lovely home, it is very big.” 

You move to retrieve some glasses. “Oookay. Do you think big is bad?”

“I just do not think this house reflects who you are as a person. It is very spacious, many empty rooms. Lonely, perhaps, if you stay by yourself.”

The house had been Andrew’s choice, maybe even back then a neon glaring sign that he wanted space away from you. You didn’t like it but what could you do. “I….I am definitely going to need a drink if we’re going to be having this conversation.” You struggled with the cork on the bottle.

T’Challa’s hand is warm as he places it over yours, stilling you. “Leave it.” His breath is warm against the nape of your neck. With gentle, but firm hands, he turns you around to face him. “I apologize for my words. I spoke carelessly and wounded you with my words even though it was not my intention.”

“You? Speak careless?” You snorted. “No, I’m just too sensitive.”

“Gentle, you mean? Enough so that you try to hide what you perceive as weakness behind this untouchable facade?” He is in your space, boxing you in though you don’t feel caged, instinctively understanding he will let you walk away if you feel threatened or uncomfortable. “I  _know_ you are strong, Y/N. I saw evidence of this strength the first day that I met you. However, I am asking that you allow  _me_ to take care of  _you_. Let down those walls surrounding your heart and I promise…”

It should be frightening to be seen so clearly, but, “You promise…?” You wait for the empty promises and lies because that’s what you’ve become accustomed to. Such a sad thing to get used to.

“I promise that everyday I will be good to you, and every tomorrow, I will endeavor to be better.” T’Challa says simply, sincerely, swallowing back what he really wants to say, admit, but unlike yourself, he’s not hiding his thoughts or feelings, so you  **UNDERSTAND**. 

He wants you, warts and all. And everything that entails. 

“Yes.” The word leaves your mouth breathily, just barely above a whisper.  

T’Challa wastes no time in kissing you, left hand cupping the side of your neck while his right goes to the dip of your back. His tongue brushes against the seam of your lips and you open without hesitation, moaning softly as tongues meet and stroke against each other. Breaking apart only to catch a breath before the two of y’all are kissing once again. His hands shift down your sides, lightly squeezing your ass and you moan even louder, tilting your chin up and he places wet kisses against your neck. Nipping sharply at your throat, he lifts you up and your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he starts walkT’Challa manages to find one of the guest bedrooms and sets you down on the bed, his long, lean body covering every inch of yours, so you feel him. Hard and aching and all for you. You felt yourself getting wetter, and it was like he knew, like he could feel it somehow because he groaned.

“I have never been this hard in my life.”

He brought his face closer to yours and kissed you softly, before he moving his attention to your neck, then behind your right ear, and then the left before returning to your mouth. He pulled off your shirt throwing it to the side, leaving you only in your jeans and bra, his hands immediately went to your breasts and massaged them gently. Pulling down the cup of your bra, he freed your breasts and started sucking on a dusky nipple while massaging the other. “Bast, you are so beautiful,” He breathed before bending down to suck on your nipple again. 

You buried my hands in his short curls, moaning at the touch of his tongue.

He kissed his way down from breasts to navel and slowly unbuttoned your jeans before removing them, leaving you completely naked but for your soaked panties. Fingers drifting down to the edge of the fabric, he paused before he pulled them off. “You’re so wet I can practically taste it. Do you want me to taste you? Do you want me to lick your wet pussy?”  
  
Why is he even asking? Isn’t it obvious? You moaned loudly, wordlessly begging him to get on with it.  
  
He chuckled. “So impatient,” T’Challa teased before he removed your panties then lowered his head until it was between your thighs. You could feel his warm breath on you, and it made you shiver. His hand descended until it came into contact with your pussy, he slid one finger through the wet folds until it reached your clit, and you moaned, thrusting your hips forward. He flicked his finger over my clit, making you scream. “Do you like this? Do you like my fingers touching you? What else do you like?” He whispered.  
  
“Inside…me…please…” You stuttered incoherently, while his fingers played with your clit making your see stars. He slid two fingers inside of your pussy and groaned at how your walls squeezed the digits. 

“I cannot wait to be inside you.”

“Deeper, more. Please…” I moaned.  
  
“You are soaking, did you know that?” T’Challa asked, the query rhetoric while he fucked you with his fingers. “You are dripping all over my hand. I need to taste you.”  
  
“Ah…yes, yes…taste me.” You beg.  
  
You had only a second before you felt his warm breath on your pussy, he licked at your slick folds, making you push his head closer. He started licking you gently until he reached your clit and pulled his fingers out, replacing them with his tongue, which had you practically writhing on the bed and he only started.  
He pulled his mouth back from your pussy; it’d definitely been too long. 

“Do you want me to make you cum?” He hummed, pleased by your responses.  
  
“Yes…yes!  _God_  yes!”  
  
He returned his mouth back to your wet pussy and started stroking your clit with his tongue. The tension in your stomach just kept building, waiting to be released. You moaned when he pushed his fingers inside you again. Begging him to take you, to make you his, to make me cum. He kept fucking you with his fingers while sucking on your clit, giving one last little lick before smacking you lightly on the ass. “Cum for me. Scream for me now. I need to hear you scream while I’m fucking you with my fingers." 

His words brought you right over the edge. 

You arched your back, screaming as you cum, just as he commanded.  
Tremors wrack through your body. He moved his face to your and kissed you, running his hands against your side, letting you ride the little waves of pleasure until you calmed down. "That was the most beautiful and erotic thing I have ever seen,” T’Challa whispered hotly. “But don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet. I’m planning on making you cum around my cock. I want to feel your pussy clench around me.”  
  
Someone so quiet yet such a wicked mouth.

Returning his attention to your body, he started licking your nipples again, making you moan helplessly, even as your pussy spasmed with need.  
“Please, I need you inside me…” You begged.  
  
“What do you need?” He pretended not to have heard you. “ _Tell me_."   
  
"I want to feel you…I need to feel you inside me.”  
  
He pulled back and you immediately felt cold. You heard the sound of a zipper and sat up as best you could. Licking your lips, you watch as bit by bit, piece by piece, clothing is discarded, revealing his lean, trim and fit body to your gaze. “Come here,” T’Challa crooned. “Come take what is yours.” You crawled over to him on your hands and knees across the bed, relishing in the flaring of his nostrils, how he swallowed convulsively, looking at you as if you’re dream made flesh, and when you finally crawled into his lap, hands going to his dark brown, muscled shoulders as you slooooowly sank down on his cock.

_Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter._

The rain pelted down on the rooftop first softly. Then a downpour. But that’s a distant note, you’re too busy holding trying to hold onto your sanity as T’Challa whispers how good you are, how wet your pussy feels, that you’re  _hishishis_ and the he brushes up against your G-spot and it’s like watching the gates of Heaven open and the angels sing Hallelujah. 

“There. Ooh, there, please, ‘Challa, plea–” His mouth swallows the rest of your words as he hits that spot again and again and again. You wrench your mouth from his, trying to get air in your lungs. T’Challa’s hand circles your throat but he doesn’t apply pressure, just makes you look him in the eyes and soon enough you’re cumming, pussy walls clamping down on his dick; he cums after you a minute later, hips stuttering as he drags out his pleasure to the max.

The two of y’all trade breaths, trying to slow down your heartbeats.


End file.
